“No sabe,” he said, thinking maybe some of the Indians knew Mexican. But the little short Indian just kept jabbering and pointing west. Newt didn’t know what to make of that. Meanwhile the others crowded around, not being mean exactly, but being familiar, fingering his hat and his rope and his quirt, and generally making it difficult for him to think clearly.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Sure enough, a little, short Indian began to point at the cattle. He jabbered a lot, and Newt assumed he was saying hewanted them all.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“They ain’t supposed to fight us no more,” he said. “Gus claims the government paid ’em to stop.” “Yes, but whoever heard of an Indian doing what he was supposed to do?” Lippy said. “Maybe some of them consider that they wasn’t paid enough.” “What would you know?” Jasper inquired. “When did you ever see an Indian?” “I seen plenty,” Lippy informed him. “What do you think made this hole in my stomach? An Apache Indian made that hole.” “Apache?” Dish said. “Where did you find an Apache?” “West of Santa Fe,” Lippy said. “I traded in them parts, you know. That’s where I learned to play the piano.” “I wouldn’t be surprised if you forget how before we come to a place that’s got one,” Pea Eye said. He found himself more and more depressed by the prospect of endless plains. Normally, in his traveling days, he had ridden through one kind of country for a while and then come to another kind of country. It had even been true on the trail drive: first there had been brush, then the limestone hills, then some different brush, and then the plains. But after that there had just been more and more plains, and no end in sight that he could see. Once or twice he asked Deets how soon they could expect to come to the end of them, for Deets was the acknowledged expert on distances, but this time Deets had to admit he was stumped. He didn’t know how long the plains went on. “Over a thousand, I guess,” he said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

ALL THROUGH THE TERRITORY, Newt kept expecting to see Indians—the prospect was all the cowboys talked about. Dish claimed there were all manner of Indians in the Territory, and that some of them were far from whipped. The claim upset Pea Eye, who liked to believe that his Indian-fighting days were over.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

They had not seen one soul since leaving the Fort. Once she thought she saw an Indian watching her from a little ridge, but it turned out to be an antelope.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Instead, she was driving a mule wagon across northern Kansas. They had been lucky and seen no Indians, but that could always change. Besides, it soon developed that Luke was going to be as much trouble as an Indian. It was something she knew that Zwey hadn’t noticed. Zwey treated her kindly, insofar as he treated her at all. Now that he had got her to come on a trip he seemed well content. She didn’t have to do anything but be there, and he was surprised when she offered to cook, which she mainly did out of boredom and because Zwey and Luke were such dirty cooks she was afraid she would get poisoned if she didn’t take that chore into her own hands. Zwey exhibited no lustful intentions at all—he seemed happy just to rest his eyes on her at the end of the day.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I’ve went with a nigger but never an Indian,” she said. “I’d like to try one.” The news about the nigger was a shock to Jake. He knew Sal was wild, but hadn’t supposed she was that wild. The look on her face frightened him a little.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Why’d you let that Indian get your whore?” she asked him bluntly.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

He dipped them in molasses and gave each of the hands one to lick.“Well, señor,” he said to Augustus, “I see you made it back in time for dessert.” “I made it back in time to see a bunch of naked waddies cross a river,” Augustus said. “I thought you’d all turned Indian and was aiming to scalp Jasper. Where’s young Bill Spettle? Has he gone into hiding?” There was an awkward silence. Lippy, sitting on the wagon seat, stopped licking the hailstone he had been given.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“How do you know it’s him?” Bert wanted to know. “He’s too far. It could be an Indian chief for all you know.” “I guess I know Gus,” Pea said. “I wonder where he’s been.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“How do you know it’s him?” Bert wanted to know. “He’s too far. It could be an Indian chief for all you know.” “I guess I know Gus,” Pea said. “I wonder where he’s been.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“More dead to tidy up,” he said, dismounting. He had given Lorena Roscoe’s horse, which had an easy gait, and was riding on the best of the Indian ponies, a skinny paint.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“You better be glad of that,” he said. “If it had been an Indian you’d have got scalped.” “Reckon they’ve had the fight yet?” Joe asked. “I’ll be glad when they get back.” “It might be morning before they get back,” Roscoe said. “We better just rest. The minute July gets back he’ll wanta go on looking for your mother.” “I guess she’s found Dee,” Joe said. “She likes Dee.” “Then how come she married July, dern it?” Roscoe asked. “It was the start of all this, you know. We’d be back in Arkansas playing dominoes if she hadn’t married July.” Every time Roscoe tried to think back along the line of events that had led to his being in a place where there was no trees to lean against, he strayed off the line and soon got all tangled up in his thinking. It was probably better not to try and think back down the line of life.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

The shot missed the white man but wounded one of the Indian horses. The horse’s scream unnerved the shooter, who moved his tripod back another fifty yards. Augustus kept low and waited for darkness, which was only another hour away.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Augustus almost laughed, but the Indian kept up the charge with only a lance, a brave thing. Augustus shot him when he was no more than thirty feet away; he let him get that close in hopes of grabbing his horse. The Indian fell dead, but the horse shied away and Augustus didn’t feel he could afford to chase him.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Sure enough, when they were fifty or sixty yards away, their horses caught the first whiffs of fresh blood, still pumping from the torn throat of the dying horse. They slowed and began to rear and shy, and as they did, Augustus started shooting. The Indians were dismayed; they flailed at the horses with their rifles, but the horses were spooked. Two stopped dead and Augustus immediately shot their riders. He could have asked for no better target than an Indian stopped fifty yards away on a horse that wouldn’t move. The two men dropped and lay still. Augustus replaced the two cartridges and wiped the sweat out of his eyes. The blood had bought him a chance—without it he would have been overrun and killed, no matter how fast or well he had shot. Now the Indians were trying to force their horses into a charge, but it wasn’t working—the horses kept swerving and shying. Some tried to circle to the south, and when they turned, Augustus shot two more. Then one Indian did a gallant thing—he threw a blanket over his horse’s head and got the confused horse to charge blind. The man seemed to be the leader; at least he carried the longest lance. He charged at the wallow, rifle in one hand, lance in the other, though when he tried to lever the rifle with one hand he dropped it.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

In the gray dawn she saw the Kiowas leave. Blue Duck talked to them in Indian talk and gave them some bullets to kill Gus with. He woke Dog Face and shook Monkey John more or less awake. “If he gets past Ermoke, you two kill him,” he said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Suddenly there was a shot, startling them all, and the young man flopped backwards. Blue Duck stepped back into the firelight, a rifle in his hands. The Indians were speechless. Blue Duck sat down, the rifle across his lap, and rattled the dice again. The young Indian’s feet were still in the light, but the feet didn’t move.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

If Blue Duck intended to trade her to an Indian, he would probably take her farther west, through the region known as the Quitaque, and then north to a crossing on the Canadian where the Comanches had traded captives for decades. Nearby was the famous Valley of Tears, spoken of with anguish by such captives as had been recovered. There the Comancheros divided captives, mothers being separated from their children and sold to different bands, the theory being that if they were isolated they would be less likely to organize escapes.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I suspect that girl has Indian blood,” Hutto said. “She had us ambushed, fair and square, and if she was as good with a pistol as she is with a rock we’d be dead.” “What’s the matter with her?” July asked. “Why won’t she come?” “I don’t know,” Roscoe said. “She don’t take to company, I guess.” July thought it a very odd business. Roscoe had never been one to womanize. In fact, around Fort Smith his skill in avoiding various widow women had often been commented on. And yet he had somehow taken up with a girl who could throw rocks more accurately than most men could shoot.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Let’s go,” Blue Duck said. “That’s enough of a taste.” When Ermoke ignored him, Blue Duck walked over and kicked him in the ribs so hard that Lorena was rolled over with the Indian.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“No, you stay with us, Deets,” Call said. “Gus likes the notion of whipping out a whole gang of outlaws all by himself.” Deets let be, but he didn’t feel easy. The fact that he had lost the track worried him. It meant the Indian was better than him. He might be better than Mr. Gus, too. The Captain always said it was better to have two men, one to look in front and one to look behind. Mr. Gus would not have anyone to look behind.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Well, you look like a bandit to me,” Jake said. “Maybe that goddamned Indian sent you to poison us all.” “Jake, you sit down or get out,” Call said. “I won’t hear this wild talk.” “By God, I’ll get out,” Jake said. “Loan me a horse.” “No, sir,” Call said. “We need all we’ve got. You can buy one in Austin.” Jake looked like he might collapse from nervousness and anger. All the boys who weren’t on night guard watched him silently. The men’s disrespect showed in their faces, but Jake was too disturbed to notice.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I hope it ain’t worms,” Newt said.“YOU THINK that Indian’s around here somewhere?” Call asked.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

He trotted what he judged to be about a half a mile from Lorena’s camp before stopping and dismounting. His new plan for watching Lorena involved leaving Mouse—if he tried to sneak back on Mouse, Lorena’s mare might nicker. He would have to tie Mouse and sneak back on foot, a violation of a major rule of cowboying. You were never supposed to be separated from your horse. The rule probably had to do with Indian fighting, Newt supposed: you would obviously be done for if the Indians caught you on foot.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇